


Ruined

by Twisted_Mind



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Barebacking, Breeding Kink, Cis Female Stiles Stilinski, Come Eating, Come Marking, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Established Chris Argent/Peter Hale, F/M, Knotting Dildos, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Rule 63 Stiles, Scent Marking, Sex Toys, Threesome - F/M/M, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Hale, Vaginal Sex, tongue-fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 05:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12574344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: “So, who was better, sweetheart?”She honestly doesn’t know how to respond to that. Her brain is mush. “Can I call it a tie?”Peter tuts. “Afraid not. We need an answer.”----or: Peter and Chris have a dick-measuring contest.





	Ruined

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is for Stetopher week 2017. It was supposed to be for Sexy Sunday, but it's late, because that is how my life is going these days. But Stetopher week isn't over yet, so this still counts. 
> 
> Special thanks to DenaCeleste, Aminias, Greenie, and SlasherFiend for conceptual development help, Triangulum for cheerleading, and to BelleAmante and red_crate for beta-reading. 
> 
> Happy Halloween!

 

 

“You can back out at any time,” Chris murmurs.

Peter looks up from where he’s mouthing at her thigh. “Shut up, Christopher.”

Stiles rolls her eyes, agreeing with Peter. “If I didn’t wanna be here, you’d know it.”

The arm he has wrapped around her waist tightens. “Forgive me for wanting to be sure you’re actually consenting, since _someone_ didn’t give you all the pertinent details before you agreed to this.”

She drops her head back onto Chris’s shoulder. “Right. I’m here because Peter flexed and temporarily hypnotized me, not because I want the hottest DILFs in Beacon Hills to eat me out to prove their manhood. I’ll come to my senses any minute now.”

“Mm, can’t have that.” Peter smirks, then presses a kiss to her mound. “In that case, I’ll have to speed up my timetable.” And then he dives in, spreading her open with one hand as he licks over her opening.

It’s not what she expects—she didn’t think he’d be so direct, for one thing—but it’s sure as hell effective. It makes her _want_ , and she’d be bucking and squirming against his face if it weren’t for Chris’s grip on her. As it is, she’s held in place as Peter flicks the tip of his tongue over her inner folds, teasing but never slipping inside.

He does it again and again, tracing her inner lips until they’re tingling, completely ignoring her clit. It doesn’t take long before she’s embarrassingly wet and desperate, fighting Chris’s hold as she twitches and jerks. “Peter, I need—”

She doesn’t have to finish that statement, because that’s the moment he chooses to sink two fingers deep inside her, crooking them to push against her g-spot as he slurps at her clit. Her orgasm starts to build, and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t so much as give her a second to catch her breath as he sucks relentlessly, fingers pumping as he winds the tension in her body higher and higher until she’s arching and spasming, heat flooding her body and endorphins flooding her brain.

She’s grateful for Chris’s hold on her after, slumping against his chest as she pants. Peter waits a minute before sliding his fingers free, and she wants to pout at the loss. She whines when he looks her in the eye as he puts them in his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucks at her come.

“How’s she taste?” Chris’s voice is deep, husky, and it makes her cunt throb in anticipation.

Peter hums, withdrawing his fingers from his mouth slowly. “Like temptation.”

And then she’s staring as Chris pulls Peter in by the back of the neck for a kiss, chasing the taste of her in his lover’s mouth. It’s stupidly hot, and her heart maybe gives a little pitter-pat at the sight.

Then, Peter’s lips are on hers, soft and sweet and gone before she can respond. “Alright, sweetheart, Chris’s turn. You want me to hold you, or would you be more comfortable on your back?”

She shakes her head, not needing to think about it. “Wanna be held.” There’s nothing she wants more right now than to be caught between them, pressed to a firm chest as her knees bracket wide shoulders.

Peter smirks, but doesn’t say anything as he settles her against his chest. Chris takes Peter’s place on his belly between her legs, and Stiles wonders how she lucked out and got here. She doesn’t realize she’s trembling until gun-calloused hands smooth up her inner thighs. “It’s alright, honey. I’ve got you.”

She snorts. “I’m excited, not jittery.”

He flashes her a grin that makes her heart stutter. “Well, in that case, it’d be rude to keep you waiting.”

He dips his tongue inside her once, moaning, before he starts lapping softly at her clit. She arches up a little, because it’s good but it’s more of a tease than anything else, and Peter chuckles in her ear. “Wait for it, sweetheart. Let him build it for you. You just need to lie back and let him.”

The sound of that makes a shiver go up her spine, and she feels a fresh gush of slick oozing out to smear across Chris’s chin. He doesn’t seem to mind, if the way he’s drinking it down is any indication. She scrabbles at Peter, hoping that having something to hold onto will help her be patient, but.

Patience has never been her strong suit.

It’s why it takes the both of them hold her down, Peter’s arms across her waist and collarbones, and Chris’s elbows planted on her thighs. And even then she’s not still—rolling her hips up, wanting faster, harder, _more_ —but she can only get what he’s giving her. Can only have the same soft passes of tongue that are nothing but torture, for all that it feels so good.

Her voice is high-pitched and breathy when she whines, “Stop teasing, I need more.”

He hums, and it’s an acknowledgement, but he doesn’t give her what she needs. She just gets more of the same gentle, rhythmic licking, so she changes tack. “Peter? I can’t, this—need to come.”

He sucks a kiss on the skin behind her ear. “I know, sweetheart, and Chris will get you there, I promise. I know it’s hard to be patient, to let him take you at this pace, but I promise you,” his voice drops to a whisper, “you’re closer than you think.”

She shakes her head, feeling minute trembling starting in her thighs from the strain of fighting their grip, fighting to grind against Chris’s face. Peter chuckles. “Trust me, sweetheart, you’ll be coming soon. It’s in your scent, in the way your heart’s beating like a little rabbit’s.”

It shouldn’t be hot, Peter telling her she’s going to come, what her body’s doing. Comparing her to prey. But it is.

“Come on, little one. Come on Daddy’s tongue like a good girl.”

Peter’s whispered words are so shocking, such a gut-punch of arousal and _oh my god_ and _yes_ , that she comes, broken little sounds falling from her mouth as her fingers grip Chris’s hair.

She’s dazed, after, and they’re kind enough to give her a few minutes to catch her breath, rolling her onto her side and sandwiching her between them. Peter trails his fingertips up and down her arm. It makes her shiver, but it feels nice.

“So, who was better, sweetheart?”

She honestly doesn’t know how to respond to that. Her brain is mush. “Can I call it a tie?”

Peter tuts. “Afraid not. We need an answer.” He gets an elbow under him to look over her shoulder. “You have another round in you?”

Chris chuckles. “Of course. It’s not like eating her out’s a hardship.”

They can’t be serious. “I don’t even think I can come again.”

Peter hums, considering. “Have you ever managed three in a row?”

She wishes she had the energy to shrug. “Technically, I’ve gotten to four, but it gets harder each time.”

“Then you should go again, Christopher, so I don’t have an unfair advantage.”

He’s smirking. She knows he’s smirking, she can hear it. She’s confused and kinda hoping that Chris will snort and accept that it’s a tie. Instead, he proves why he’s with Peter.

“Perfect. Roll her over for me?”

“Wait—what advantage?”

“He’s a cheater,” Chris says, grinning.

Peter snorts, helping move her into position. “No, I’m a werewolf.”

Chris starts kissing his way down her belly. “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“Oh God.” She’s gonna die. Death by tongue. Death by _Chris’s_ tongue, no less, so it’ll be slow.

She’s extra squirmy when Chris starts mouthing at her again, twisting into and away from the sensation by turns. It’s too much when she’s this sensitive, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel like enough to make her come again, either. It’s just endless, pleasant torment.

The hot slide of his tongue inside her just makes it worse, makes her need to come that much more pressing, without providing the slightest bit of relief. She mewls, and Chris makes a hungry sound before he does it again and again, thrusting his tongue as deep as it’ll go. She’s nearly crying, shamelessly grinding against his face without their hands to keep her still.

It’s good, it’s so good, she doesn’t think she’s ever been this wet and is kinda worried that she’ll drown him, but it’s not what she needs. She doesn’t know what that is, exactly, but it’s more than this. “More?”

Chris responds by sealing his lips around her clit and massaging with his tongue, and she has to bite back a yelp. She's getting closer, the attention where she needs it now, but something’s still missing. Her head’s lolling on Peter’s shoulder as she pants, hoping for a push over the proverbial edge.

When Peter’s hands cup her breasts, she wonders if that’ll be what does it. But rather than squeeze them or play with her nipples, he just holds her, and it’s nice, but ‘nice’ isn’t what she wants right now.

Her hands twine in Chris’s hair, and she strains, trying to push herself over, but can’t. She needs to come, _needs_ to, it’s pounding in her head and making sweat bead on her skin and—

“Peter, Peter, please!”

In a flash, he’s tugged her away from Chris, sideways across the bed so he can lean over her. She shouts when he shoves his fingers inside her, fucking her with them harshly as starts flicking his tongue across her clit, his other hand splayed over her belly. It’s so different from what Chris was doing, fast and hard so all she can do is take it, and the orgasm she’s been chasing slams into her.

She comes shaking, Peter’s name on her lips. When it’s over, when he’s sat back up, she lifts her head to look between them. Their faces are a mess, their stubble damp with saliva and her come. “Puh—Peter wins,” she mumbles, before flopping back down.

“Goddamnnit!”

Peter snorts. “Come on, now. Don’t be a sore loser.” Stiles grins when she hears Chris spluttering. “It was inevitable, Christopher. After all, I have both owned and operated the equipment in question.”

There’s a pause for a moment. Then, “True,” Chris sighs.

“Don’t sound so gloomy. I’m sure she’ll let you have a consolation prize.”

“Whu—?” She shivers when she feels Peter’s hand caress her inner thigh.

“You like being filled, sweetheart?”

She thinks she blushes, and hopes it’s lost under her usual post-sex glow. “Yeah?”

He hums like he expected that answer. His fingers slip back inside her, rotating gently, and she whines. “Are you too sore to have Chris fuck you? He won’t be gentle.”

She’s not, but even if she were, she wouldn’t turn down the opportunity. She shakes her head. “No.”

Peter smiles, and it’s hungry. “Lovely.” He turns to his partner. “How do you want her, dear?”

When she looks, she sees Chris eyeing her hungrily. “Bent over the bed.”

“Excellent choice.”

And then Peter’s there, flipping her onto her stomach and pulling her half-off the bed. She gives him a confused look, unsure of what she’s missing here. He sits close, stroking her hair away from her face. “Neither of us is particularly fond of bottoming,” he murmurs.

Stiles nods her understanding, and doesn’t ask. She’s curious, but it’s not her place. “So it’s been a while?”

Peter dips his chin, smirking. “And, since we have you and your delightfully greedy cunt in our bed, we’d like to make the most of it.”

She squirms a little, hearing him put it like that, and he chuckles as Chris slots up behind her. “Condom?”

She shakes her head. “IUDs are awesome, and I know you’re clean. Plus . . .”

Chris grips her round the waist, and it hits her, then, just how big his hands are. “You like the thought of that, baby? Like the idea of being fucked bare and pumped full of my come?”

She moans, hiding her face in the sheets. He doesn’t hesitate after that, sinking inside with a bitten-off curse and starting to thrust. He’s erratic and forceful, chasing his orgasm with abandon, and despite how worn-out she is, the fact that she’s being _used_ is making a fresh wave of desire surge through her.

She pants against the sheets, arching back against him, and Peter chuckles. “Feeling needy, sweetheart?” She mewls in lieu of answering and tries to brace herself as Chris’s hips snap against her ass, his thrusts growing shorter. Peter coos and drags his nails across her scalp. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take good care of you once he’s filled you up.” From the way Chris’s hands clench at her waist, she’s not the only one affected by Peter’s words. “How does she feel, Christopher?”

“Fucking fantastic.” His voice is gravelly and wrecked, and she realizes he’s close. It feeds her own arousal, and she squeezes around him.

Which is apparently too much, because he drives home one last time and comes with a guttural sound. He slumps against her, panting and mouthing kisses against whatever skin he can reach before carefully pulling out. She starts to leak and the knowledge that he’s just fucked her bare, that the scent of him will linger in her for days, is hot and heady.

Peter kneels behind her, pulling her open with his thumbs, and her breath hitches. He makes a sympathetic noise. “Such a pretty, sloppy little cunt.” He leans forward, dragging his tongue across her, and it sends a jolt up her spine. She’s almost oversensitive and stupidly horny, and his tongue might be gentle, even soothing, but it’s not what she wants.

She’s not sure she knows what that is, though.

“Peter,” she sobs, and he hums, slurping at her. “Peter, I can’t.”

His hands glide up her back. “Shh, sweetheart. It’s alright. I know you need more, but aren’t quite ready to come again just yet. So you’re going to lie here and let me clean out your messy cunt, get it ready to take my cock.”

And then he slides his tongue inside her, fluttering and curling, and she was wrong before, _this_ is how she’s going to die. “Oh God.”

Chris chuckles. “His tongue is something else, isn’t it?” She can only whine in response, and Chris combs gentle fingers through her hair. “You know, Peter has something special. Something I’ve never been interested in, but I think you might like.”

She has no idea what he’s referring to, but Peter obviously does, because suddenly he’s rumbling and there are inhumanly sharp teeth pressed against delicate flesh. She tries to lurch away, but Peter’s hands on her hips stop her from going anywhere. He laps softly at her in apology, fangs gone.

And once her girly bits are no longer in jeopardy, she’s curious about what got Peter so riled. “Wh-what is it?”

Peter rumbles again, sucking sharply, so she almost misses Chris answering, “A knotted cock.”

A high-pitched whine crawls up her throat.  “What?”

Chris huffs. “Peter, come up for air.” A tongue spears inside her, and she jerks. “Seriously, she can’t pick which cock you’re gonna fuck her with if you don’t give her a minute to breathe.”

Peter gives a dissatisfied grunt, and she doesn’t think there’s anyone else on the planet that will be this enthusiastic about going down on her. She’s been ruined for everyone else by these fuckers. (Worth.) Chris helps her get fully on the bed as Peter digs inside the top drawer of the dresser in the corner. What he holds out is . . . well.

She’s never seen a dildo that shape or colour, and when Peter lets her hold it, she realizes it’s heavy, and that she really, really wants it inside her. There’s just one thing. “Uh, look, as much as I want this in me, I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

Peter takes it back from her, smirking as he attaches it to a harness. “Sweetheart, you’ve had three orgasms, and Christopher isn’t small. Your hungry little cunt will gobble up whatever I put in it, at this point.” She feels her face heat, and Peter chuckles. “I had three fingers knuckles-deep in you, darling. You’ll take my knot just fine.”

She ignores Chris snickering and nods. “Okay, so what’s the best way to do this?”

He crawls over her, and the tip of his cock drags up her inner thigh. She tilts her hips, achingly empty, and he rolls forward, nudging it against her but not pushing inside. “How flexible are you?”

“Uh, fairly, but I don’t—”

Peter lifts her right leg, slinging it over his shoulder and surging forward, sinking the tip inside her. “Like this.”

She grips the back of his neck with her left hand, and his arm just above the elbow with her right. “Y-yeah.” She needs more, wants to be filled up again, wants to know what that knot feels like.

She’s not expecting Chris to reach between them and wrap his hand around the knot, slicking it with lube, or for what he murmurs in Peter’s ear. “Go on. Breed her. How long have you been thinking about it, about making her come on your knot as you wreck that sweet little pussy?”

Peter growls, eyes flashing, and Chris pulls away looking smug. Before she can ask how long, exactly, they’ve been thinking about bringing her into their bed, Peter’s pushing inside her, the knot pressing against her insistently for a moment before popping inside, and her back bows as she shrieks at the sudden fullness.

Peter stays still, waiting until her broken little cries taper off. He’s panting, eyes shut, and it hits her that he hasn’t come yet. That he has to be just as desperate as she is by now, but he’s waiting for her. “Peter.” She curls her free leg around his back, pulling him closer. She doesn’t know how words work anymore, but he gets the message.

Time warps as Peter bends her nearly in half to kiss and suck at her throat as he grinds, pressing against her g-spot and clit as he works toward his own climax. Stiles doesn’t know if it’s how many times she’s come already, but the blissful pressure of the knot and friction on her clit feel shocky. Almost too much.

Despite that, she can feel another orgasm building in the way her muscles tense and shake. Her legs are on the verge of cramping, but asking Peter to stop is unthinkable. Her spine draws into a bow as she gets closer, but it’s not until Chris runs a hand down Peter’s back, saying, “It’s good you waited, Peter. With how well she’s taking it, it’s obvious she needed this, needed a werewolf to breed her little body,” that it hits. She comes all but crying as she clenches around the thick knot, hips arching to meet Peter’s.

She’s limp after, but Peter follows her down, still rutting and unsatisfied. It mostly feels good, but she knows it’s gonna start to hurt soon. She’s too wrung-out to keep going.

Before she can say anything to Peter, Chris whispers something she doesn’t quite catch beyond the words “come”, “need” and what sounds like “slut”. Whatever it is, it makes Peter’s hips stutter before he slumps atop her, and she realizes he came. She tries to look at Chris over Peter’s shoulder, wanting to know what was said, but he just winks at her.

It’s a few minutes before Peter moves, easing the knot free before shedding the harness. Her brow furrows when she sees him dip two fingers inside himself. They reappear almost immediately coated in slick, and she yelps when he sinks them back inside her, rotating his wrist before withdrawing—and repeating the process. “I don’t—what?”

Surprisingly, it’s Chris who answers. “He’s marking you, so you smell like him.”

Peter’s eyes are electric blue as he smears his come as far inside her as he can reach. “You’ll smell like him for at least a week. It’s only fair that I mark you as mine, too. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

She likes the sound of that way, way more than she should. “If either of you ever wanna top again, should gimme a call.” She thinks she mostly manages not to slur. She’s kinda come-drunk.

Chris’s eyes twinkle, and Peter’s face splits in unholy glee. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Due to past--and some recent--experiences in the comments sections of my stories featuring trans characters, Girl Stiles, and/or Steter generally, comment moderation is turned on. Trolls and flames will be deleted with extreme prejudice. I just write stories and post 'em for free.


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